


Humans Can Be (Monsters) Too

by stereks_fifth_nipple



Series: After Effects [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Stiles, College AU, College Shooting, Hurt, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Panic Attacks, school shooting, stiles goes to college
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:42:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5829355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereks_fifth_nipple/pseuds/stereks_fifth_nipple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rated Mature because the subject matter is a school shooting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Stiles and his friends have been to Hell and back, they had fought for their lives time and time again. So of course the idea of a school shooting never crossed Stiles’ mind.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Humans Can Be (Monsters) Too

It’s Beacon Hills. It goes without saying, things happen. People die. Everyone gets hurt. It’s all part of living in Beacon Hills.

 

Werewolves, kanimas, banshees, kitsunes, nogitsunes, hellhounds, they had been through it all. Or so they thought. Stiles and his friends have been to Hell and back, they had fought for their lives time and time again. So of course the idea of a school shooting never crossed Stiles’ mind.

 

With his extensive knowledge of all things supernatural, all things random, and all things that could possible on an off chance save one of their lives, he didn’t know how to handle a school shooting. The two shots fired off in UC-Davis’ cafeteria sounded all too much like the guns of hunters who had chased their tails. The whimpers and sniffles heard as the two guys collected everyone’s phones made him see tipped gurneys, abandoned medical supplies, and made him hear everyone in Beacon Memorial panicking.

 

He didn’t notice the shortness of his breath until he was pressing himself up against the wall. Didn’t feel the panic creeping in until it was too late.

 

“Listen up!” The one waving his gun around, the dominant partner, yelled. Stiles could hardly hear his voice over the ringing in his ears. “If anyone tries to make contact with someone outside this room, if anyone hid their phone, we will not hesitate to shoot you.” The second one, who didn’t look very old, he seemed abnormally bulky.

 

One of the blondes twenty feet away from Stiles started crying, clutching her Political Science book to her chest. “Shut up!” She couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped her body, but the guy didn’t care. As he hauled her off the ground by her hair he growled “I said be quiet!”

 

Maybe that’s what clicked. That growl made it all click. These two? These two people behaving like monsters? They were purely _human_. That growl only served to prove that. The two shooters were human, and so was everyone else in this room. Even he was. 

 

Then he heard the click of the safety as the barrel sat on her forehead. “Hey!” He was standing before his brain even processed the action. “Let her go!”

 

Maybe it wasn’t his smartest decision, he was also human after all, but it was all he had. And maybe just a little bit he valued these people more than he valued himself. Just a little. The gun was dropped from the girl’s forehead and the dominant partner turned on Stiles instead. His eyes were uncaring and cold, and they sent a chill up Stiles’ spine, because he was human. “Let her go?” The man snarled. “How on Earth can you expect to make me?”

 

Stiles clenched his teeth and he held back whatever biting remark was on his tongue. “That’s right,” The guy laughed, and he wandered around the room again, turning the safety on and then off. On. Off.

 

“If I were any of you, I wouldn’t defy us. It’ll only make me do things that are unnecessary.” On. He sounded blatantly patronizing. Off. “We just have to wait for a certain staff member to arrive, don't worry.”

 

They sat like that for an hour and a half longer. It was almost dead silence, aside from sniffling and the boots of the two gunman. The submissive partner was jittery, acting paranoid. He hadn’t stopped shaking. Stiles tried to keep his breathing steady, he really did, but every time he heard that safety be flicked on or off all he could think about was the barrel of a gun being aimed at his head back in high school.

 

There was one girl who got shot in the thigh after she tried moving closer to her friend for comfort. Stiles flinched at the sound of the gun. He had a feeling he would every time he heard a gun for the rest of his life.

 

He thought about his dad, but that only stressed him out more, thinking about his dad’s reaction to this. He tried thinking about Scott, it didn’t really calm him either. Derek. Well. He didn’t really want to be thinking about Derek if there was a chance he might die, because that means his last thought will be about how he never got to kiss Derek Hale.

 

“Stephen,” A voice that sounded at least three years younger than the other guy, and a whole lot more scared, called. Stephen. There’s one name. “There are cop cars out front. What do we do now?”

 

“Shit,” The dominant one cursed. “Shit. Alright, which one of you has your phone?” He called, turning the safety off once more. “Huh?” No one answered. “That’s how we’re going to play this, is it?” He asked. Without another word, hardly even a thought, a shot was fired and several voices screamed. The frightened guy wearing one of the baseball team sweatshirts, the one who had leant Stiles a highlighter two and a half hours ago before all of this happened was dead.

 

Stiles couldn’t breathe suddenly. He couldn’t move. Death always has a funny way of making everything bad feel so much more real than it was before. He’s learned that the hard way.

 

The crying started up again, some people in groups huddled together on the floor and against walls. Under cafeteria tables. “Do I need to ask again?” He yelled. “Who called?”

 

“Alright, fine.” He says and lifts his gun, but a shot never goes off. The window cracks, and a sniper apparently had sights on that shooter because suddenly he’s on the ground holding his right arm. “Goddammit! Noah. Show them what you’ve got.”

 

The younger one- Noah- took off his top layer to reveal the bomb strapped to his chest. That explains the excessive bulkiness he noticed earlier.

 

Stiles inhaled sharply as he realized they weren’t getting out of this. They were forever going to be flowers and candle light vigils held on the school’s grounds, because they were going to be blown up. A girl started sobbing and held someone younger to their chest, practically concealed by them.

 

No. No these people couldn’t get blown up. Stiles noticed that Noah didn’t have a detonator strapped to the bomb, meaning it was remote detonated, either by his phone or the other guy’s. His phone is in his front pocket while Stephen’s is on the ground somewhere near him where he still clutches his wound. The submissive partner is too weak. He doesn’t have the guts, the stomach, the anything, to follow through. He doesn’t have a low enough self-worth to blow himself up. The detonator is with the dominant partner. He had to assure follow through at all costs. Here goes nothing.

 

Stiles pounced on the injured partner, rolled the man away from his phone. “Everybody, out!” He shouted as loud as he could, and they scrambled.

 

The younger partner panicked, yelling, asking Stephen how he should help. When Stephen was knocked flat on his back, Stiles scrambled for the phone. His ankle was grabbed by a hand and he was dragged backwards before he could get a hold of the phone. Stephen turned him onto his back and loomed over him, ready to strike, but Stiles kicked him in the chest in order to knock him off.

 

In the end, Noah ran to grab the phone, but as soon as he was close, Stiles kicked the phone so that it slid under tables to the other side of the cafeteria. He took off running out the doors before either could grab a hold of it, and he could feel his heart drop into his stomach in a way that made him feel sick, and he could feel the panic build in his lungs.

 

That’s the last thing he could feel, other than the first piece of wall to smash into him from behind and knock him to the floor.

 

When Stiles opened his eyes again, there was dust settling through the air, a ringing in his ears, and it was eerily calm. He tried to sit up and felt a weight on his back. Drywall was piled on top of him. He tried to push himself up again and groaned as he succeeded. He half stumbled half limped down the remains of the hall and out the door leading to the parking lot. The workers were working through the debris, looking to make sure no one else was hurt. The crime scene line was still up and people were still watching the building.

 

When Stiles stumbled down the steps with a cough, two paramedics immediately ran over to him. His ears stopped ringing eventually. They wrapped him in a shock blanket. "No, no," He mumbled. "I don't need this." He shook his head but they weren't listening. "I'm not- I'm not in shock."

 

"Sir, please just sit down for a moment and relax."

 

"But I'm not..." He mumbled. "I'm not."

 

The officer came to see him once he was calm and under the blanket.

 

"There were two. Their names were Stephen, the older, and Noah, the younger." He talked at a rate that was probably faster than the officer could understand. "I think they were brothers. Stephen was controlling, he wanted to see a staff member. I think he must've gotten a bad grade or been rejected and dragged his brother along. He shot that baseball player, the one who scored eleven runs last game. I don't know if the body- if- With the bomb and,"

 

"Where's my son?! Stiles!"

 

The Beacon county sheriff spotted his dirt covered, fragile looking son in a blanket. The son who just spent nearly two hours in a room with a gunman and a bomber. The son he who he drove a nearly three hour drive in two for.

 

Stiles saw his dad coming with Derek and Scott behind him. It was fine. It would all be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at stormy-rains.tumblr.com


End file.
